My Hero
by Annatheaxegirl
Summary: Valeria couldn't kill anyone. Not in a million years. But when she's reaped for the Hunger Games, what can she do? She's got to get back to her family. A story of undeserved compassion. Rated T for violence only. No sexual content, no language.
1. Chapter 1- The Murder

The scream echoes across the woods the moment the axe touches my hands. Without hesitation, I let go of it and run in the direction of the scream. Frantically, I search through the dense forest for the source of the voice I heard. As I come closer to the sound of raspy breathing, a flash of red catches my eye. I run toward the girl lying on the ground and quickly recognize her face.

"Briar!" My voice catches, but I continue. "Wha- what happened?"

She's coughing up blood and barely audible, but I can hear her whisper, "I think a Peacekeeper told me to freeze, but I didn't hear him." She doesn't need to continue. We both know what happened next.

I gingerly brush back her beautiful long black hair, now matted with blood. Taking one look at the damage, I know nothing can be done. She coughs one last time, trying to say something- my name, I think –and I turn away for a time before turning back to close her eyelids.

I stand up, contemplating what to do, when suddenly I hear a click. "Freeze!" a deep voice shouts. "Back away from the body!" I thrust my hands up and begin to step backwards, now seeing the Peacekeeper. "Go home, girl," he now says, no more gently than at first. "Work in this zone is now closed for the rest of the day."

As I turn around and head back, I begin to think about what just happened. I didn't know Briar very well, but she was in my grade at school, and a life is a life. She had a family and friends who cared about her, but she was brutally murdered for no reason. _But_, I think,_ this is the world I live in_.

As they tell us in school, our country, Panem, long ago used to be a place called North America. After a series of famines, wars, and natural disasters that nearly destroyed the land, it was rebuilt into Panem, thirteen districts ruled by a city in what used to be the Rockies called the Capitol. But the Capitol ruled cruelly, living prosperous lives while leaving the people in the districts to live in poverty. So eventually, the people in the districts rebelled. It was a hard-fought war on both sides, but in the end, the Capitol came out on top, defeating twelve districts and destroying the thirteenth. As punishment for the rebellion, the Capitol came up with the Hunger Games….

But before I can finish my thought, I approach the entrance to my district. District seven. Principle industry: lumber. As I walk in, I try to decide what I should do next. I want to tell Briar's family about what happened, but I don't know where they live, much less how I would tell them, so I decide to just go home. Then I realize that since my zone closed early today, the rest of my family is probably still working out in the forest, so I head for downtown instead.

I don't have any money to buy anything, so I let my feet just wander and take me where they want to go. Soon I am outside the butcher's store watching Conlan Ballantyn negotiate with customers through the window. Conlan is one of the butcher's sons. Eighteen years old, tall, and strong, he is the exact opposite of me, which makes me not have to wonder why I admire him so much. He shakes his chocolate-brown hair and walks out of my view before I head off.

I walk through the rest of the town, now forgetting about Conlan, which is good. I have more important things to worry about than guys. I stop by the bakery to admire the decorated cakes in the window. My family would never be able to afford one, but I tell myself wishful thinking never hurts.

We're not the poorest family in district seven, but that isn't saying much. People die of starvation here every day, and since all five of us in my family are old enough to work in the forest, at least after school, we're lucky enough to not be in that situation. I look at the position of the sun in the sky and decide it's probably about time to head home. I head toward our little home in the average part of town.

The first to arrive after I get back is my brother Scorpi. He's seventeen years old, with dark brown hair like mine, and eyes like the color of evergreen trees blending into the color of their trunks. He doesn't smile much, especially since his best friend was killed two years ago in a way much like Briar was.

I tell him about what happened in the woods today, and all he can do is shake his head and grit his teeth. Looking into his eyes, I can tell there's a lot he wants to say, about the Peacekeepers, about the Capitol, but we both know he could be in serious trouble if he does.

My mother comes home next, beaten and tired from a long day's work. I decide not to tell anyone else what happened today. I don't want my mom to worry.

Finally, my dad and sister come home together. Wren looks tired too, but excited to see me as she always is. Wren and are twins, and my parents always say it's a miracle that twins were born safely here, without any medical care. Wren has some sort of mental retardation, but I've never cared about that. I love her more than anyone else in the world, and we share a bond nothing could ever tear apart.

That evening, Wren and I sit together on the bed we share, when Wren looks at me, fear shining through her sky-blue eyes and whispers, "I'm scared, sis."

I'm about to ask what for, when suddenly I remember: tomorrow's the reaping. I try not to let fear come through my own eyes as I say, "Don't worry, Wren. Your name's only in there three times. They won't pick you."

"But what about you and Scorpi?" My eyes water at the thought of my sister's selflessness before I think about this.

"I'm sure we'll be fine too," I lie, picturing the thirty-six pieces of paper with my brother's name printed on them.

Well, it's not entirely a lie, since my name will be in the ball only three times, just like my sister. But I'm really worried about Scorpi.

When you are twelve, your name is entered once into the Reaping ball. When you are thirteen, twice, and so on until you are nineteen and free from being chosen for the Hunger Games forever. But there's another twist. You can choose to enter your name in more times in exchange for tessera, a small year's supply of grain and oil. And the tesserae entries are cumulative. That's what Scorpi has done, so though he would have his name in the ball just six times, with five in his family to feed, it all adds up to thirty-six. And he refuses to let Wren and I take some of the tesserae. Thirty-six. Thirty-six. The number won't stop playing over and over in my head.

The next afternoon, Wren and I sit on our bed again as I French-braid her silky brown hair up to look nice for the reaping. She looks beautiful in a sky-blue dress that matches her eyes; I am in a violet one, my hair in a bun.

District 7's reaping is as four, so my family heads down to the square together at three. Wren clutches my hand tightly and I give her a reassuring squeeze. As we make it to the square, the two of us make our way over to the fourteen-year-old girls. As Scorpi walks over to the guy's side, I catch his eye and give him a reassuring nod. He nods back, obviously as nervous as me.

Still holding Wren's hand, I hurry over to find my friends. I first see my friends from school, Hardy, Terra, and Vibia. All of them have the same odds as me, except for Terra, who is the oldest in her family and has taken all of the tesserae. I talk to them for a while, and then spot my friend Columbae a way off looking down at her feet, a very sobering expression on her face. I know her because she works in the same zone as me out in the forest. Her older brother was reaped for the Hunger Games two years ago, and now she can hardly stand to be near this place.

The rules of the Games are simple. Every year, a girl and a boy between twelve and eighteen from each district are selected by the reaping. They are called tributes. The tributes are then shipped to the Capitol, where they are primped and fattened up and trained for the Games. They are then transferred to a vast outdoor arena where they will fight to the death (on national television, no less) until only one remains. The victor is crowned and showered with riches, and their district gets many gifts, mostly of food.

It's a sick and cruel thing that we are not only required to watch, but to celebrate. And the most sickening thing to me is that for the people in the Capitol, The Hunger Games are something to celebrate. A sporting event. As if the tributes were never worth keeping alive in the first place.

Closer to the front I spot first Eustacia, then Blye. They're both sixteen-year-olds that also work in the same zone as me. The three of us have become pretty good friends, even though they're both quite a bit older than me.

Finally, a girl in the seventeen-year-old section catches my eye. Her name is Laurel, and I know her from school because she's in Scorpi's grade. She's often very encouraging to me, and today is no different. She gives me a genuine smile (hard to do on a day like this) and a nod that tells me everything will be alright.

Up on the stage the cameras are being set up and three people walk up to the stage and sit on three chairs. One is our overly upbeat district escort, Otillie Keene. She has that weird, Capitol look about her, which most of us district people hate. Her skin is dyed light pink, and she wears a horrific purple wig that must be two feet tall! The second is our district mayor. At least compared to Ottilie he looks relatively normal. The third is our district's most recent victor, Johanna Mason. She won the Hunger Games four years ago when she was twelve by pretending she was weak and helpless when really that was far from the truth.

At exactly four o'clock, the mayor walks up to the mic and welcomes everyone to the 64th annual Hunger Games. He then gives the long, boring speech he gives every year about the history of Panem and why the Games are in place. Finally, he hands it over to Otillie. In her energetic but weird Capitol accent, she gives the introduction again.

"Welcome, welcome!" she pipes, "To the 64th annual Hunger Games! All right, let us begin! Happy Hunger Games, and may the odds be ever in your favor! Ladies first!"

My heart is pounding as she walks over to one of the two giant glass balls on the stage. She sticks her hand in, rustles it around a bit until she's satisfied, and pulls a small piece of paper. As she prepares to read it, all I can do is hope that it's not Wren, that it can't be Wren, it's not Wren.

And it's not.

"Valeria Spottswood."

It's me.


	2. Chapter 2- The Enemy

"No Vallie! Don't go!"

I feel as if I've been punched in the stomach. Not able to hold back tears, I wrench away from Wren's grasp. "I'm so sorry, Wren, I have to!" I'm bawling now, unable to bear the thought of Wren watching me die. She keeps screaming, but Hardi holds her back. I try to wipe up my tears as I walk nervously toward the stage.

I realize that my tears just now are probably going to lable me as a weakling, giving me a major disadvantage. Oh well, I think, I guess I never had a chance anyway. It seems stupid of me to think that I could possibly stay alive under any circumstances, so I block the idea from my head.

Once I make it to the stage and up it, Ottilie seems to ignore the fact that a girl was just torn away from her hysterical mentally retarded twin sister to be killed. She heads toward the glass ball on the opposite side of the stage, and I remember my problems are far from over. I still have Scorpi to worry about! I can only imagine the agony my family would go through if TWO of us were killed in the same year...

Once again, the only thought my mind can process is the number thirty-six as she dips her hand into the sea of paper. Thirty-six. Thirty-six. Thirty-six.

"Conlan Ballantyn."

I'm about to let out a sigh of relief, but then I realize this isn't much better. How will I be able to die at the person who's been the object of my admiration all my life's hands? Well, hopefully someone else will kill me before he does, because I truly believe that he could win.

We shake hands, and Otille announces us as "Your tributes of District Seven, in the 65th annual Hunger Games!"

We're led into the town's Justice Building behind us, into seperate rooms where we'll get to say our final goodbyes to our families and friends. I think I'm dreading this most of all. I don't know what I will say to them. But I don't have to wonder very long.

The first people to enter are my parents. We don't say anything, but instead stay locked in a three-way embrace, which says all that words could never express. Finnaly the Peacekeepers pull them out.

Next come in my friends from school. For them I try to say something, but nothing will come out. Eventually Hardy chokes out, "Don't you ever think that we will forget you, Val."

And Vibia adds, "Never."

Terra just nods and so do I, in agreement. Neither of us can bear to say anything else, and the three of them walk out silently.

After them my three friends from work enter. I look at Columbae, who's still got her head down. I can't imagine how terrible this must be for her. I walk up to her and speak softly, "I'm so sorry, Columbae."

Hearing this, she looks up and blurts out, softly but with intensity, "It's not your fault. It's not even Phox's." She will never forget the name of the boy who killed her brother. Her milky brown eyes pierce my own as she says, "Never forget that, Valeria. Never forget who the real enemy is."

I nod, then turn to Eustacia and Blye. "I- I guess this is goodbye," I choke, worried I'm going to cry again.

Blye nods, but first says, "You're a good friend, Val."

Eustacia adds, "A great one."

And without another word, the three of them turn and walk out of the room. I try to hold back tears as they leave, but it is no use when Scorpi and Wren burst through the door.

It's clear Wren's been crying too. We embrace for I'm not sure how long until Wren looks up at me, her blue eyes stained with tears.

I don't know where she got her eyes from. Scorpi gets his green and brown eyes from our dad, and I got my dark brown ones from my mom. Regardless of where they're from though, I think she has the most beautiful eyes in the world.

"You can win, Vallie. I know you can!" I look down at my feet. I'm unready to tell Wren I can't. Suddenly Scorpi bursts out.

"I know what you're thinking, Val, but you can't just give up now! You have to at least try! Promise me you will try!"

And for him and for Wren, I promise. I hug Scorpi too, which I especially cherish since he has hardly ever let me hug him, then Wren again, untill the Peacekeepers finally pull them out the door.

Colan and I ride in a car to the district's train station. One look at his face, and I can tell Conlan has not cried once. Though I admire him, I do envy his strength. He doesn't look at me the whole ride, but I'm not surprised. It's obvious he doesn't care about me. To him, I'm just a small obstacle in getting back home.

Otillie leads us on to the shining silver train. It is much nicer than the old steam trains that come in and out of the district every day to transport lumber. No, this is a luxury train, designed for transporting tributes to the Capitol, in record time with record comfort.

Conlan and I sit on cushy chairs inside while Otillie goes to the back of the train to fetch Johanna Mason. Since she was the most recent District Seven victor, Johanna will be mentoring us. We wait in silence for a while, until finally she appears through the door. I suddenly realize how awkward this will be, since she's two years younger than Conlan.

Johanna's my height, which isn't very tall. She has short brown spikey hair and a small frame. She walks over to Conlan and I, looks us over, and lets out a little chuckle. "Well, I see we have the polar opposites this year." We both know what she means. The tall, fast, strong, eighteen-year-old boy, and the small, slow, weak, fourteen-year-old girl.

I'm about to agree with this, but instead Conlan speaks up. "For all you know, she could be just like you were, Johanna." For a moment I'm shocked, though I know I shouldn't be. He's just being nice to a little fourteen-year-old girl, who he obviously doesn't know at all.

"The only difference," I add, "is that if I acted weak, I wouldn't be acting."

"Oh come on Valeria, I've seen you with your sister. You've got to be as strong as anyone to love her like that even through her disability."

Now I really am shocked, but not convinced. "Wren is my sister, my TWIN. You'd love her too if you were related to her. Besides, I'm insulted that you would think it takes any extra strength to love her. She's just a person!" I turn to Johanna. "Call me Val."

Conlan seems surprised at my outburst, and to be honest, so am I. I guess it's just an impulse. I get angry whenever someone treats Wren like there's something seriously wrong with her. But maybe Conlan's partially right. Maybe it does take a little bit of strength to stand up for her like that.

I head down the train toward my sleeping car. It's really nice, much better than any place I ever lived in. I sit down on the cushy bed and begin to think some more.

I'm also surprised that Conlan has ever noticed me. I didn't even think that he knew I existed until my name was called just a few hours ago. And now apparently, he's watched me with Wren before. Maybe we could be friends...

And then I suddenly remember where this train is headed. He could be trying to kill me in a matter of weeks, it's more than likely even. Then I remember that I'll never see my family again and I begin to sob.


	3. Chapter 3- The Tributes

I wake up the next morning to realize I had fallen asleep in my clothes. I peel off my violet dress and find something that fits. Then I step into my bathroom compartment to wash off all remaining tear stains from the night before. Finally I head into the dining car for breakfast.

Otillie, Johanna, and Conlan are sitting at the table eating. Ottilie's light up as she sees me. "There you are, Vallie! We were worried about you when you didn't show up to dinner last night!" Her exhuberant voice only aggravates my stiff body, so I just sit down, saying nothing.

Before me is a feast, the likes of which I've never seen before. Plates full of eggs, biscuts, apples, oranges, and things I'm told are sausage, bacon, pancakes, cinnomon rolls, and bananas. For a second I just sit stunned at the sight of so much food in one place, then I dig in. I fill my plate with as much as I can fit on it, and my cup with something rich and brown that I'm told is called hot chocolate. Its all so rich and filling and I just love everything.

I can see that Conlan's stuffing his face too. His family, being butchers, has always had enough to eat, but never as much as this. It doesn't take long before I start to feel a little sick, and so does Conlan I think. Our stomachs aren't used to so much rich food.

Otillie seems to notice we're full, so she calls the Capitol attendants to come pick up the food. "Since Vallie wasn't here last night, I taped the recap of the reapings for her to watch," she suggests. I don't really want to see them, but what am I supposed to say? No? So I take the tape back to my room and play it.

The rule is that after a tribute's name is called, another girl, or boy if a boy was called, can volunteer to be tribute instead. This especially happens in Districts One, Two, and Four, where winning the Hunger Games is a great honor. Often in those districts, they train kids all their lives for this. Most of us call the volunteer tributes Careers, and the victor is almost always one of them. However, in most districts, being reaped automatically means death, so there are almost never any volunteers, especially the higher up you go in district number.

This year, the boy from One, the girl from Two, and both tributes from Four are vounteers. I make a mental note of a few of the faces I see. The girl that volunteers from District Four is vicious and athletic and looks very ready to fight. There is also a volunteer from District Six who volunteers to take the place of his little brother who is reaped. This touches me, because it doesn't happen very often. I watch my own reaping, and as I watch Wren screaming for me not to go, I have to bite my lip to keep from crying. There is also a volunteer from District Eleven, which is unusual. I can't figure out his motive for volunteering. Maybe he really wants the riches for his family, or the prizes for his district and thinks he could win. I doubt he can though; he looks only thirteen or fourteen. Lastly, I watch the reaping for District Twelve, sometimes called the Laughingstock of Panem. It is the very poorest district in our country of poverty. The coal-mining district. There have only been two victors from there, and only one is still alive, and he's an angry drunk. I remember the girl tribute because she's twelve and so small and tiny. I have to hold back tears again when I realize she reminds me of a younger and smaller Wren. Finally I take the tape out and hurry to give it back to Otillie.

...

Four hours later I sit in the Remake Center in the Capitol, waiting for my stylist Indigo. I've been plucked and primped by my prep team, and they've finally decided I'm ready for him. Finally he walks in, looking as rediculous as every other Capitol person I've seen. His skin is dyed light yellow, and his ponytail, eyebrows, and lips are dyed dark blue, like his name.

"Hey, Valeria," he sighs. He doesn't look too thrilled to be styling for me. "I'm Indigo. I'm here to make you look pretty. As much as I know that doesn't seem important to you, it is."

But I do know it's important. The most liked tributes will get the most sponsors, and sponsor gifts could mean the difference between my life and my death in the Games. Appearance will be the most important tonight especially, because tonight is the Tribute Parade. All of the tributes will be dressed in costumes that reflect the district's main industry, and be shown off to the Capitol and the country. Bets will be made, sponsorships decided; it is one of the most important nights leading up to each year's Games.

"So will I be a tree?" I ask, because that's what the tributes from my district are usually dressed as.

"Sort of," he replies. "I've decided to go along wih your character, or what I can see of it so far. Your costume will likely be sweet and innocent looking."

I nod, because that isn't too far off. I do wonder, though, how one could make a costume look look sweet and innocent. I guess, at least, that I probably wont be carrying an axe.

I stand an hour later in front of the mirror, waiting for Indigo. Finally he comes in carrying something over his arm thats covered in black. "Close your eyes and I'll put it on you," he says mysteriously. I do so, and wait, until I feel something slip onto my shoulders, then something placed on my head. "Alright, look now," he says.

I am wearing a lime green sleeveless knee-length dress that looks like it's made completely of leaves. A crown of branches twisted together rests on my head. I take a second look at my dress and realize it sparkles, making it look like I am covered in dew.

"It's beautiful," I whisper breathlessly. "Thank you, Indigo."

He ignores the praise but instead asks, "Do you want your hair curled?"

Was that a rhetorical question?

After my hair is curled, I am ushered down to the bottom floor of the Remake Center where we will get ready for the parade. Most of the tributes are already there. I look around at a few of my compeditors. I see the tiny girl from District Twelve wearing overalls and a headlamp. I sigh. She deserves more than that. I also see the mean-looking Career girl from District Four. The fishing district. She wears a dark blue bikini top and a sheer blue skirt tied at the side. Her straight dirty-blonde hair falls to her waist. It's clear she's going for intimidating. And she pulls it off.

Conlan is one of the last to walk in. He looks stunning. He's shirtless, wearing a skirt much like my dress, except that the leaves are a darker color and not sparkling. His head bears a crown identical to mine. I can see why his stylist made him shirtless. He'll earn countless sponsors just with that one move.

Conlan and I step into our horse-drawn chariot as the parade is about to begin. Our chariot moves behind District Six's as the countdown begins. I am beginning to get nervous. In a minute I will be on national television. People will be watching me. Or will they? Will they be too destracted by Conlan's abs to even take a glimpse at me? Will people be impressed? Or will I just be a silly girl in a sparkly dress? The questions whirl in my head.

The countdown ends, and the first chariot exits through the tunnel onto the Capitol streets. A few seconds later, it is followed by District Two. As we approach the entrance, my heart beats faster. Conlan looks down at me and sees my worried face.

"Don't worry," he says. I look back up at him and try to focus my eyes on his face, not his muscles.

"I'm not," but I know he can see through my terrible lie.

"Smile, Val," he insists, "it really lights up your face."

I smile but turn away so he can't see me blush. Don't be silly, I tell myself. He's trying to gain your trust so he can kill you!

But it's working.

And with that we break out into the moonlight.

* * *

DANGIT PEOPLE I NEED YOU TO REVIEW MY STORY!


	4. Chapter 4- The Sword

The stands along the sides of the streets are packed with Capitol people, cheering and waving. I smile and wave back, and I think at least a few people are looking at me. Every so often, my face comes on one of the large screens above the stands. On the screen I can see how beautiful my dress looks, shining and glittering in the moonlight.

We reach the end of the parade, and our chariot comes to a stop in a circle with all of the others. Looking around at my competitors, I can see many of them are angry at Conlan for stealing the spotlight. Maybe even some are angry at me for taking advantage of the extra attention to my chariot. But we weren't the MAIN attraction. Many of the Career guys were just as buff as Conlan. All I can do is hope that at least a few people have considered sponsoring me.

President Snow gives the welcome speech, and then sends us tributes off into the Training Center building. We will stay there for the remaining few weeks until the actual Games start. As we step off the chariot, Otille, Johanna, and our stylists are there to greet us and congratulate us. Otillie leads us to the elevator.

"Each district gets its own floor, so all you have to do is press the number seven button."

Seems easy enough. I've never ridden in an elevator before, and it's exhilarating. I want to do it again, but I'm assuming there will be plenty of opportunities for that over the next couple of weeks.

She leads Conlan and me onto our apartment floor. It's even nicer than the train. We're instructed to go to our rooms and change out of our costumes, then come back out for dinner. I hurry to mine. It's huge, bigger than my entire house. I lie on the bed for a second, because it's so wonderfully soft. Then I realize how weird that is, so I get up. I change into some comfortable clothes and head back out to the table where just Johanna and Conlan will be eating with me this time.

We're having steak, something I've only dreamed of eating. After I try it, I decide not to eat anything else so I'll have room for as much steak as possible. I call the server to take away the rest of my food. She comes and takes it, not saying a word, which seems unusual for a Capitol attendant. Not a "Would you like some steak sauce for that?" or even a "Could I refill your drink?"

Johanna sees my puzzled expression. "She's an Avox, Val. A criminal who's had her tongue cut off. You're not allowed to talk to her unless you're giving her a command."

"O-oh," I stutter, shocked. I wonder what this girl did to gain such a cruel punishment. This makes me think of Briar, lying dead on the forest floor, but I push the thought out of my head.

Thankfully, Johanna changes the subject. "So, what are some skills I should know about for the two of you?" she asks.

"Nothing," I answer promptly. "I have no skills or athletic abilities whatsoever."

Conlan chuckles, "You're so humble, Val." He turns to Johanna. "I've seen her in the woods. Either she makes no sound to be heard of, or I'm going deaf. She can move silently through all of the leaves and branches like a ghost, and she's not too bad with an axe, either."

"Well I've seen HIM at the butcher's," I jut in. "He can haul a full grown buck on his shoulders and he's a genius with a knife."

"See, she must be a ghost! I've NEVER seen her down at my place."

"Whoa, guys!" Johanna enters the conversation that I now realize has not really been directed toward her. "Let's not forget, you're opponents."

She's right. And that's exactly what Conlan's been trying to make me forget. And I can't let him do that. Not if I'm going to keep my promise to Wren and Scorpi.

She moves on to more business. "Tomorrow you will begin training. Conlan, show off your skills. Throw some weights. Play with some knives. Just intimidate the others. Show them you're no one to be messed with. And you Val, just uh, learn some new skills."

It's irritating knowing that Johanna thinks I'm hopeless. But, I think, I can hardly claim better of myself. I finish my steak and head off to bed.

...

The next morning right before nine, Otillie takes Conlan and me to the elevator.

"The training floor is underground, so just press the 'B' button to go to the basement," She instructs. Then she leaves us to go down by ourselves.

We start the elevator ride down. I usually wear my hair down, but I decide that won't work for training. I pull a hair tie out of my pocket and put it up.

"You look nice in a ponytail," Conlan points out.

I just ignore him. I can't afford to be swayed by him. Especially not today. I must block out any feelings I ever had for him and just focus on surviving. Even if he was worth trusting, there wouldn't be any point in loving anyone or even making a friend.

We finally step out of the elevator and into the large training room. All of the tributes that have arrived so far are standing in a circle in the middle. The Gamemakers sit at a table on the side of the room, laughing and drinking wine. All throughout the room are training stations. There are swords and practice dummies, bows and arrows with targets, knives, axes, and weight stations, but also survival skills: fire making, knot tying, climbing, identifying poisonous and edible plants, and even camouflage.

Conlan and I are given the number "7" to pin to the backs of our shirts. Then we join the rest in the circle. It's intimidating being with all of my competitors in one place so close to each other. I do some comparing and realize I am almost the smallest one in the group, but yet not the youngest. I decide there's no one here I could possibly trust for an ally. Then again, I never have been one to trust easily.

All of us are given instructions then sent off to train. Lines are forming at the weapon stations, so I decide to start with some survival skills. I start with climbing, but that ends up a flop. I've always been afraid of heights, and though I work in the forest, I almost always prefer to keep my feet planted firmly on the ground. I'm also afraid of fire, so my work at that station doesn't turn out too well either. Snare making, camouflage, I just can't do anything. Finally, I find one strong suit. I at least have a good memory, and I know I will be able to remember exactly which plants I can eat and which to stay away from. That could be useful I suppose.

Now that the weapon stations are clearing up, I hurry to try my hand at some. I immediately find out there are only two categories that describe my abilities with different weapons: okay and terrible. My okay weapons after I practice with them are bow/arrows, throwing knives, and of course an axe. The weapons that would probably do me more damage if I had them are spears, a sword, and brute strength.

I stand in line for the swords, and find myself watching the girl in front of me. Her strawberry-blonde ponytail swings behind her as she cuts through those dummies like a ninja. She looks about my age, and hardly taller than me. When she slows down, I realize she's from District Three, which makes no sense. No one who's not a Career and who's so small could be so good. I think back through my experience so far, and I realized I haven't even noticed her so far. Not her reaping, not her costume, but I won't forget her now. She may end up being one of my fiercest opponents.

When the girl finishes slicing up one of the dummies, she turns to hand the sword over to me and smiles. "I saw you with that axe earlier. You're pretty good."

I shrug. "Yeah, I'm ok. But where did you learn to get so good with that sword?" District Three's job is technology, so I figure she couldn't have learned her skill the way I learned mine.

"I, uh, I'll tell you another time? By the way, my name's Katana."

"Valeria," I reply. Can I trust this girl?

"I think we could be useful to each other." She holds out her hand. "Allies?"

Something in her eyes tells me I can trust her. I reach my hand out to hers.

"Allies."


	5. Chapter 5- The Cup

The next two weeks move slowly as I keep up the same routine. Get up, breakfast, train, lunch, train, dinner, go to bed. During training I polish up my axe skills and finally manage to master some survival skills too. By the end of the two weeks I've figured out how to make a small fire, build a rudimentary trap, and ensure a death blow with my axe. It's not much, but I figure if I'm smart it could be enough to keep me alive for at least a few days.

My new ally Katana and I share secrets about our skills. I teach her how to duck a blow from the axe, and she shows me how to dodge her sword. Trust gradually builds between us.

Katana and I aren't the only alliance forming. Like they usually do, the Career tributes have banded together. They'll hunt down the rest of us until it's just them left, then they'll turn on each other. I just hope it never gets to the point where Katana and I have to do that.

Finally the last day of training arrives. Today we will go in one by one and the Gamemakers will judge our skills. We will be rated on a scale of one to twelve. Most tributes average a score of three to eight, and the Career tributes usually range from eight to ten. The scores will be a major component in whether someone can get enough sponsors to save them. I'm hoping my axe skills will get me at least a five, but Katana should get a seven or eight. That should round up at least enough sponsors to buy a loaf of bread if we're starving, because arena gifts cost at least twenty times more than they would normally, more the farther along we are in the Games.

District Seven's private Gamemaker sessions will be just after lunch, so Conlan and I spend the morning with Johanna discussing what we will do.

"You each will have fifteen minutes to do whatever you want," she explains. "So impress them. Show them your coolest fighting skills. But don't do any survival stuff. They don't care about that half of the equation."

I've been ignoring Conlan ever since that first day of training, but I have noticed a little bit of what he's done in training. He could snap a neck, smash a skull with a rock, and has even figured out how to throw some knives. He won't have any problem getting the Gamemakers's attention.

As we ride the elevator down to the training area, I try to think of if there's anything particularly exciting I could do. Nothing. I decide to just swing my axe at some dummies and hope I can get some pretty good hits.

I sit in a small room while Conlan is in the training area. I find myself wondering how well he's doing. Why should I care? His good score could mean my death anyway. Finally my name is called and I step into the training room.

It looks exactly like it did before, except now it seems strangely lonely. The only people in the room are the Gamemakers. They sit at the same table they have this whole time. I can tell a few of them have been drinking, and are starting to look a little out of it. The rest just look bored, and I can't blame them. They've sat through over half of the tributes by now, and how exciting is watching people swinging pointy things around, really?

I step over to the familiar axe station. I take my favorite axe and start swinging. Eventually I regain the feel for it and step into a nice rhythm.

This goes on for about ten minutes until suddenly I hear a clang. One of the drunk Gamemakers has dropped his golden wineglass and it has fallen into a small hole, not much bigger than an air duct. The Gamemaker seems very broken up about this, and I doubt anyone will pay much attention to me until he gets it back.

Instinctively, I run over to look in the hole. I've fit into tighter spaces before. Without thinking, I squeeze down into the tight hole. It's difficult, but I retrieve the wineglass and bring it back up. I dust it off and hand it back to the drunk Gamemaker. He seems excited to have it back, but the rest just stare at me, stunned. Finally one of them stutters, "You may go, Miss Spotswood."

Riding the elevator back up to my floor, I begin to think about what I just did. Are the Gamemakers glad I did that? Will they give me a high score? Or was I not allowed to do that? I guess I'll find out tonight when they announce the scores.

...

Sitting at the dinner table four hours later, I wait for Johanna to ask the dreaded question. Finally it comes out. "So how bad were you guys today?"

Thankfully Conlan answers first. "I think I did okay. I threw the hundred-pound weight a few yards several times, then I threw ten knives. All of them hit the target, but only three hit the bull's-eye. I'm hoping for at least a six or seven."

"Oh, you'll probably get better than that," she replies. "Those two skills combined could easily earn you an eight, maybe a nine. What about you, Val?"

I take a deep breath. "Well, I started out by showing them what I could do with an axe, and then, well, a Gamemaker dropped his wineglass down a hole and I was small enough to fit in it so I just, went down and got it for him."

Everyone just stares at me. They look exactly like the Gamemakers did. Even the Avoxes are gaping. I'm trying to figure out if this is a good thing.

At least Otille seems happy. "I'm sure they loved your manners," she points out. But Johanna doesn't seem convinced.

"Did they ask you to do that?" she inquires, seeming worried.

"Uh, no," I stutter back.

"Well, we can hope they liked it," she manages.

"And if they didn't?"

"Worst that'll happen is they'll give you a really low score. And the best is the opposite. We probably don't have too much to worry about. Besides, no one pays attention to the okay or low scores. Just the high ones."

I hope she's right.

The Gamemakers are the team of about thirty people that are in charge of the Games each year. They design the arenas, control the weather in the arenas, regulate which camera shots will be aired, and do countless other things. They are directly connected to the Capitol and President Snow, and since the Hunger Games are Snow's method of controlling the districts, it's just generally not a good idea to mess with the Gamemakers.

After dinner, we sit in the apartment's sitting room in front of the large-screen TV. The announcer begins displaying all of the tribute's scores. Among the Career tributes of District's One and Two there are two 8's and two 9's. After the boy tribute from District Three, they get ready to show Katana's score. At least a seven, I'm thinking. At least a seven.

"From District Three, Katana, with a score of 9."

"Yes!" I shout, ignoring the fact that this only makes it more likely that she will be the cause of my death.

The menacing girl from District Four pulls a 10, which doesn't surprise me. In training she was almost as good with a sword as Katana, plus she never missed when she threw a spear. She didn't seem to lack in the strength and speed categories either.

I don't pay attention to the next few scores as it gets close to District Seven. Will I get a low score? A high one? A mediocre 5 like I predicted?

"From District Seven, Conlan, with a score of... 10."

I try to ignore all of the praise in the room. Conlan is so humble. It's obvious he did much better in his Gamemaker session than he said. I try to figure out whether this makes me admire or resent him more.

"And Valeria, with a score of 2."

TWO?! What happened?!

Johanna, seeing my face, says, "I think I know. Tributes for the Hunger Games are supposed to be mean. They don't want a girl to go very far who's gonna be nice and help everyone."

I don't know why, but what she says makes me mad. But I don't say anything. Because I know she's right.

I look at Conlan. I can't tell whether he's happy or sad about my score. Then all of a sudden something clicks in his face. It's like a light bulb turns on in his brain. Like he has an idea. What is going on in that boy's head?

As we listen to the rest of the scores, I start to think about the implications of my 2. No sponsor gifts. Katana may even ask to break the alliance. And I would have to agree. And then there's my family back at home... I think about my promise to Scorpi and how I totally blew it. They're probably so disappointed...

I run off to my room, throw myself on my bed, bury my head in my pillow and burst into tears.


	6. Chapter 6- The Protector

Waking up after crying yourself to sleep is never a good feeling. You wake up, feeling refreshed and ready to begin the day, then you see the tear stains on your pillow and remember why you were crying. This only leads to a second round of crying, and eventually you have to go in the bathroom and splash your face with cold water over and over again, until you're finally presentable enough to be seen by anyone.

That's what it's like for me this morning. Eventually I walk out to the breakfast table to see Otillie, Johanna, and Conlan already almost done with their breakfasts. I must have really slept in.

"Well, look who finally showed up," Johanna smirks. "I think there's one biscuit left for you"

There's tons of food left for me, but I do have to eat alone while Johanna takes Conlan off to help him get ready for the interviews tonight. Otillie waits in the next room for me. While Johanna and Conlan are working together this morning, Otillie will be instructing me on manners and in the afternoon we will switch.

Otillie shows me the correct ways to walk, stand, sit, smile, and about a dozen other things. I learn how to walk with four-inch heels on -well, she teaches me, but I never learn. I have no balance or coordination, and the two of us conclude that the prospect of me ever being able to walk safely in high heels is virtually impossible. Otillie is frustrated with me, but surprisingly gracious as she struggles to teach me one thing after another. By the end of the morning, both of us are completely worn out.

In the afternoon I work with Johanna. She will be helping me come up with an angle to play in the interview. Every tribute will have their own sort of angle -funny, fierce, sly, arrogant, friendly, sexy, mysterious- to try to get sponsors.

"Well," she says, "best I can figure, you'll probably do the best with shy and sweet. Try to get people to feel sorry for you."

"Oh joy," I huff sarcastically. I guess I'll just have to hope the sponsors and betters will feel differently than the Capitol about what kind of person should win. She's not too far off from my actual personality anyway.

She asks a bunch of questions, and I try to answer them shyly and sweetly. We decide that'll probably work. Eventually we both get bored. "May I ask what Conlan's angle is?" I ask. I don't know why I'm curious.

"Mysterious. He'll answer the questions just enough for them to be called answers, without actually giving away anything. Even after the end of the interview, he'll still have everyone's attention, because they'll still be wondering what his skills are, and what his real motives are."

"That's genius," I say, trying to compliment Johanna.

"Actually, it was Conlan's idea," she answers back.

I decide to change the subject. "So what will I be wearing?"

"I'm not sure. I'll talk to Indigo about your angle, but I'm sure he already has an idea. After all, he can't just make something out of the blue. It does take time."

"Even here in the Capitol?"

"Even here. They have a lot of technology, but not everything can be instantaneous. Especially if you want quality."

I guess that makes sense.

...

The minute I look at myself in the dress two hours later, I realize the huge advantage Indigo has given me. It is sky-blue, much like the dress Wren wore at the reaping, except much nicer. People will remember that I have her waiting for me back at home and might want to help me. After all, isn't she the reason I'm trying so hard to get home?

"Thank you, Indigo."

"Let's get you ready to go, Val." His tone is as emotionless as it usually is, though I think this time I can detect just a little bit of gratefulness in his voice. I think he really does care about me, even though he doesn't like to show it.

I put on some flats, not heels, and my prep team does my hair into a fancy braided up-do. After what seems like an eternity of Otillie herding Conlan and I around, eventually we find ourselves sitting backstage next to all of the other tributes, waiting nervously for the interviews to start.

Finally Caesar Flickerman comes onto the stage. He's the legendary Hunger Games interviewer and he's done this for over thirty years. The weird thing is, he looks almost exactly the same as he did then. He wears a twinkling midnight blue suit, and his hair, lips, and eyebrows are a different color for each Hunger Games. This year the color is bright orange, which makes it hard to look at his hair without practically going blind. I guess I'll just have to try to look at his nose.

He calls the District 1 girl out. She walks gracefully toward the chair beside Ceasar and plunks herself down. She didn't volunteer, but it's clear she's trained for this. Her angle seems to be feminine with arrogance. She acts as if all of the other tributes will be no problem at all.

Though Caesar may look as weird as any other Capitol person, I think he would be a fun person to get to know. He genuinely tries to help the tributes out. He laughs at jokes that aren't funny, calms nerves, and can make a boring answer rememberable with his comment on it.

The tributes are interviewed one by one, each getting five minutes or so. When it's her turn, Katana stands up. Before walking out to the stage, she catches my eye and gives me a smile that lets me know we're still allies, despite my low score. Seeing this, I let out a sigh of relief. I wonder how she'll do in her interview.

Katana gives the impression of being humble. She wonders out loud how just a little girl from District Three could be doing so well. She tries to assure Caesar that her 9 in training was nothing, but of course he doesn't believe her, which only makes the audience love her more. I feel so unworthy to have accepted her kindness.

The girl from District 4 is fierce and vicious, ready to take all of the other tributes on. As time goes by I'm getting more and more nervous. I tell myself that all I have to do is act like I'm comfortable on stage, and that's what people will think.

"From District Seven, let's welcome Valeria!

As I walk toward the stage, I feel like I'm wearing high heels again. I can't believe I manage to keep my balance all the way out to the chair next to Caesar. I take a look at the audience and smile, hoping they'll see past my nerves.

"So, Valeria, what do you think of the Capitol?"

I take a second to be sure of what I'm going to say. "I think you all are very lucky to live in an environment where you don't have to worry about getting enough food."

The answer takes Caesar by surprise. "You look pretty well fed," he stutters back.

Only since I've been here, I think, but I just shrug at him.

He changes the subject. "I loved your parade costume! Were you actually covered in dew, or was it just the moonlight?"

"Oh, that was real," I lie. Who cares if it was real or not?

"Well, you looked beautiful!" He smiles at my blush. "I was sorry to see you got a 2."

Uh-oh. The moment of truth. What do I say? "I, uh, I think I did something the Gamemakers didn't like. But be prepared. Scores can be deceiving."

"Ooh, now I'm curious. So what will your greatest asset be in the Games?"

I decide to focus on a skill the Gamemakers never judged me on. "You never see me coming."

"Wow. That's an interesting… skill. Your time is almost up, but before you go, I want to ask you about one more thing. Your dress today reminds me of the girl who wouldn't let go of you at the reaping. Who is she?"

I bite my lip and look down. "That was my sister Wren. We're twins. I love her more than anyone else in the world. I've always said nothing could tear us apart and I just can't let some Hunger Games do that."

I can tell the audience feels for me. Caesar sighs. "What did she say to you after the reaping?"

"She told me she thought I could win. I- I didn't think I could, but my brother made me promise I would try. I can't bear the thought of them watching me die."

Caesar looks heartbroken. "Well, good luck Valeria."

I get up and walk back off stage. I think that went well, but I'm not sure. Maybe no one believed my story. But it wasn't just for sponsors. It was all true!

Conlan heads out for his interview. Caesar asks him about his lack of shirt at the Tribute Parade, his training score, and even his life as a butcher's son back at home. Conlan answers the questions very mysteriously. He doesn't even say anything about knives.

"So, Conlan," Caesar says, "What will you do with all of your money if you win?"

"Well that's a hard question Ceasar," Conlan answers, "considering that I'm not going to try to win."

What? Caesar looks puzzled too. "You mean you're going to die on purpose?"

Conlan sighs. "Yes. But not until I do everything to protect Valeria and make sure she wins."


	7. Chapter 7- The Ruins

Caesar just stares at him. Even the audience becomes silent. What does he mean, protect me? It gets awkward on stage, so Conlan stands up and walks backstage. Caesar composes himself and continues the interviews.

I have a hard time concentrating on the other tribute's interviews. Conlan could've been lying but... he had that huge audience and if he goes against that during the Games... no, he had to have been telling the truth. But why? And suddenly it hits me. Almost every kid that grows up in Panem has this dream of doing something to defy the Capitol. The problem is, anything done even slightly to that effect would guarantee a bullet to the head. But what if one was about to die anyway? My mind zooms back to last night when they announced the scores. Johanna said that the Capitol didn't want me to win and or anyone to help each other in the Games. So THIS was his idea. How am I supposed to respond?

I pull myself together and watch the last few interviews. The tiny girl from District Twelve's name is Gia. She has the same angle that I used, except she pulls it off better. She scored a six in training, pretty good for her size. I would say she'd probably get more sponsors than me but now... how could Conlan do that? Surely he knew he gave up all chances of staying alive he ever had. Even if I die before he can save me, he has just lost all of his possible sponsors.

The interviews end, and we head back to our apartments at the Training Center. Now is my chance to confront him.

"What in the world were you thinking?!" Better question, why am I so mad?

"I was thinking, wouldn't it be nice if someone in this egotistical world showed a little selflessness? A little compassion?!"

"This isn't a church, Conlan! This is the Hunger Games! This is not the place for that kind of thought!"

"Well, I'm sorry I wanted to keep you alive!"

I turn around and storm away like the immature little girl I know I am. I feel so ashamed. He hasn't done anything I shouldn't like. He is so much nobler than I am. Maybe that's why his plan bothers me so much. Because I know he deserves to live so much more than me.

Otillie and Johanna will not be staying with us tonight. Since the Games start tomorrow, they will be out making deals with sponsors. Conlan and I say our final goodbyes to them. Then we ride up the elevator in silence.

...

As soon as I crawl in bed I know I will not be able to sleep a wink tonight. I could be dead in less than twelve hours. Definitely not a comforting thought to fall asleep to.

My mind whirls with thoughts. What will the arena be like? Will I take part in the bloodbath at the beginning, or will I be able to race off to the rest of the arena away from everyone else?

Suddenly I remember something Columbae said right before I left. _"Never forget that Valeria. Never forget who the real enemy is." _What could she have meant? Real enemy? If I live long enough, I'm determined to figure out why she told me that. And finally, though unexpectedly, I fall asleep.

...

Riding in the hovercraft to the arena, I'm nervous like I've never been before. Now marks less than an hour until I could be- and most likely will be -dead. I think that's a legitimate cause to freak out. I sit in a row with next to half of the other tributes. No one can look at each other. What if I end up having to kill someone? I just don't think that I could do that.

A woman walks slowly down the line. She asks each tribute to hold out their right arm and uses a metal device to insert something into their forearm right below the skin. One kid asks what that was, and she matter-of-fact-ly answers, "It's your tracker."

She reaches me and presses the thin metal tube up against my arm. I flinch as it pierces my skin. The lump it leaves on my forearm gives me something to play with to take my mind off the minutes ahead as we ride to the arena.

We won't get a chance to see it before the Games start. The hovercraft enters an underground chamber. We are led off it, and three Peacekeepers take me down a hallway to a room where Indigo is waiting for me. I'm excited to see him, and though he doesn't show it, I think the same goes for him.

He has me change into the arena outfit, a tight black nylon tank top and dark blue low-thigh-length loose shorts. This gives me some clues about what the arena might be like. He does two French braids on the top of my head that come together at the back then puts the remaining hair into a ponytail. He parts the hair behind the band and flips the ponytail under and through, which will keep it off my neck.

Indigo gives me some water to drink, and I chug it down because I know I'll need it. An announcer tells us there's a half an hour left. I sit in silence, too nervous to say anything. Indigo stands behind me. Twenty minutes. Fifteen. Ten. At five minutes I stand up.

"Thank you, Indigo," I stutter, "for helping me."

He nods, finally excepting my praise for once. I take a second to think about his position. Every year, he has to work with a girl, to help her, only to watch her die every time. No wonder he tries not to show emotion. The same goes for Otillie, and soon for Johanna, though this is only her second year as mentor. And that's one reason I'm not so sure I want to win, though it's not like I could. I just want to stay alive for a few days, to show my family that I fought back.

"One minute till launch." I'm shaking now. This is like a nightmare. Suddenly Indigo speaks, surprising me.

"Valeria..." He looks down. "Good luck." Now it's my turn to nod.

"Thirty seconds. Tributes, take your places for launch."

I nearly stumble as I slowly make my way to the metal platform in the corner of the room. How am I supposed to run away from danger? Maybe the adrenaline will kick in. But I don't see how I could be any more scared. My eyes are wide with fear, and if I had longer, I would have chewed my entire bottom lip off.

"Fifteen seconds."

A glass cylinder begins to close around me. I take one last look at Indigo as the platform begins to rise up out of the room, taking me with it. There are a few seconds of darkness before I burst into the bright sunlight.

"Ladies and gentlemen, let the 65th annual Hunger Games begin!" We have exactly one minute to wait.

The first thing I notice is the heat. Overwhelming heat. That certainly explains the outfit and the hair do. The rest of my competitors stand on pedestals identical to mine. We're all spread out into a circle with about a quarter-mile diameter. In the middle of the circle stands the Cornucopia, its mouth filled with weapons and supplies. More less important supplies are spread out quite a distance from it.

Next I try to focus my eyes on the scenery around me. It's pretty much all colorless, tan except for the blue sky. As everything comes into focus, I realize it's some sort of city. Or was at one point. Its concrete walls and pillars are mostly rubble now. Past the city's borders lies not much more than a desert, with an oasis here and there. I'm glad I drank all of that water beforehand, because it seems unlikely that I'll find much here.

The place where I am right now must have been some sort of square in the city. I wonder where I am. Greece? Rome? It seems weird that the arena would be out of the country, but then, no one ever knows where the arenas really are except the Gamemakers.

I look around at the other tributes. A few of the younger ones look as scared as I am. Most just look brave. The careers have their eyes focused on the Cornucopia. They want to go NOW, but they know that if they step off their pedestal a second early, land mines will blow them to smithereens. Conlan looks just as focused as them. The careers had offered him a spot in their alliance, but he refused. Katana's got herself pointed toward the Cornucopia too. With her speed, she'll be able to get there before everyone else, grab her sword, and start picking people off before even the careers. Maybe we'll meet up in the desert after the bloodbath. If I'm still alive. But I know she will be.

Finally I ask myself the question. What will I do when the gong goes off? It would probably be safer to run off and not go to the Cornucopia, but then how will I survive after that? I need some supplies. My eyes spot a bright green backpack several yards away. Surely that will have some useful things. Yes. I'll go for that. I wish I could go farther, because I desperately want that axe, but I decide that's not a good idea for someone who can hardly run the 100-meter-dash in less than twenty seconds.

And then I hear the gong.

* * *

Keep reviewing! I really appreciate it! Constructive criticisms are welcome too. Don't be afraid of making me mad. I know I'm not Suzanne Collins ;)


	8. Chapter 8- The Loss

I'm sprinting my fastest. I can hardly tell what's going on around me. As I reach the backpack, many others are already at the Cornucopia. I start to turn away, when I hear a sound I don't like, way too close to me. I whirl around to see the girl form District 1 with her bow, arrow pointed straight at me. I can tell she's about to let it go, but before she can, an axe blade lodges deep into her skull. She falls to the ground, sending the arrow whizzing past my feet. Her killer wears a purple backpack much like my green one with an array of knives sticking out of the side pockets. In his right hand is the bloody axe, in his left another knife. I gasp as I realize it's Conlan. He runs toward me, axe held out posed to kill me, and I instinctively cover my face with my hands, though I know it will do no good. I brace myself for the blow, for death, when...

I feel the handle of the axe placed in the palm of my right hand. "Come on, let's go!" he shouts. I have no time to process this, because he picks me up and swings me over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

As he runs toward the desert, I have an unfortunate view of the fighting going on at the Cornucopia. Tributes are going down left and right. The career boy from District 4 picks up the boy who volunteered from District 11 like he weighs nothing. He snaps his neck like a twig and throws him into a pillar where his head will surely be smashed. The girl from 4 has speared several. I think even Katana has killed some, though she looks wounded. Eventually we've gotten too far for me to see anything, and I'm grateful. Conlan's run slows to a jog. It's hot, and I'm not as light as a feather.

He runs for about fifteen minutes. When he thinks it's safe, he sets me down and we walk together.

After walking for a few hours, we come to a fairly large oasis with five trees and a small spring. It will conceal us well. I give him a chance to catch his breath. Then I speak up. "You... you saved my life."

"I said I would, didn't I?"

"Conlan, you can't just throw away your life for me! I won't let you!"

"Well, you'll have to let me. It's what I want."

"I- I don't deserve it." I look down.

"What does that matter? This is a gift. You don't have to deserve a gift. And I hate to say it, but it's not just for you, Val. It's also for your sister."

The mention of Wren breaks me. "Okay, I'll let you," I say reluctantly. I know I shouldn't, but it seems like this is sincerely what he wants. Shouldn't I grant him his last wish? And how can I get back to her without him?

Even after I yelled at him earlier he's still doing this. I know I don't deserve it. It's him that deserves to live, not me. So that makes it even more selfish of me to let him. Which makes me deserve it less.

We sort through our backpacks. Mine contains an empty water bottle, some rope, matches, and a small knife. Conlan's, found closer to the Cornucopia, has also an empty water bottle and matches, plus a bottle of iodine, sunglasses, a few crackers, some beef jerky, and a little bit of dried fruit. He also picked up ten knives, but lost two of them in the beginning bloodbath. We divide things up evenly, leaving me with my axe, my water bottle, matches, rope, crackers, jerky, fruit, and three knives. I still have my small knife, but Conlan also gave me a serrated one for sawing, and a pointed, aerodynamic one for throwing.

We're beginning to get very thirsty. Conlan fills up the water bottles in the spring and add a few drops of iodine to each. We begin to wait for our water to be purified when we hear the cannons.

Normally, a cannon would go off the moment a tribute died, then a hovercraft would appear out of nowhere to pick up the body and ship it back to its district. But on the first day, when the fighting is so chaotic, they don't bother to fire the cannons or pick up the bodies until the fighting is over and the killers have dispersed. We count the cannons. Twelve, thirteen, fourteen. Fourteen dead on the first day and its only late afternoon. Suddenly I remember.

"Conlan, we have to look for Katana." I stand up. "She's my ally. We have to find her."

"Val, we don't even know if she's alive."

"She has to be! Or at least, we have to find out."

"We'll find out tonight when they show the faces in the sky."

"Conlan, I let you have your wish. Now let me have mine." I'm not being fair. I know that. But if Katana is still alive, we're allies, and we must work together.

"Okay."

We pack up our supplies, hydrate, refill our water bottles, and set off. We walk for about two hours before it gets too dark to see much. We hear the Capitol anthem playing and look up to the sky. The Capitol seal shows on what is likely a very large screen held up by an invisible hovercraft. At home they would be showing full replays of every killing, but we will just see the faces of the fallen.

First shown is the girl from District 1, Conlan's kill. Then both tributes from District 2. This is unusual. Three Career tributes out on the first day? Next I see the boy from District 3. Will the next face be Katana? No, next is the boy from 5, then the girl. I let out a sigh of relief. Following them is the girl from 6. So the boy that volunteered for is little brother is still out there. Both from 8 and 9 are dead. Both from 11. I guess both tributes from 10 are still alive. District 10 is livestock, and they tell us in school that District 10 is somewhere in a place that used to be called Texas, and the terrain is somwhat similar to the desert here. They must know how to survive out here. Last they show the boy from District 12, and the anthem fades out and the sky goes dark.

I wonder how much I've been on camera today. They might have shown what happened with Conlan this morning, but otherwise most of the coverage was likely on the bloodbath. A girl and a boy trekking through the desert doesn't seem very exciting, and exciting is what the people in the Capitol want to see.

Conlan and I decide to take turns sleeping three or so hours at a time. When it's finally dawn, each has gotten maybe five hours of sleep. We're still tired, but sleeping for very long is hardly an option in the Hunger Games.

We get going again. We have to be getting close to the city by now, but we're moving slower, because all we've had to eat since the beginning was a few crackers. What if Katana's not in there? I at least know she's alive.

As we reach the edge of the city, I faintly hear the sounds of shouting and what can only be the clashing of swords. Before Conlan can stop me, I'm racing off in the direction of the sounds. I hide behind a pillar only to see the sword pierce Katana's side.

"Katana!" I scream, not caring who hears me. Her killer, the boy from 4 I think, runs off as I race to Katana's side.

"Val," she whispers, and breathes her last. Her cannon goes off.

No. No! NO! This wasn't supposed to happen! She had a 9! She could have won! I knew I wouldn't be able to, and it was her that I wanted to win if I didn't make it.

Tears are blurring my eyes. I can barely stand. I see her killer running back toward me, though Conlan is close behind him, and I am utterly defenseless as I fall to the ground.

The pain. The PAIN. My eyes are clenched tight and I don't know what's causing the pain in my back. I hear the shout and the cannon and I know Conlan has killed the boy. Will I be the next to go? I place my hands where my legs should be but instead find only the blood-soaked sand before I black out.


	9. Chapter 9- The Dream

_Wren and I are dancing in the forest. Dancing and singing along with the birds. We are six, without a care in the world. Too young to know anything about Panem, or the Capitol, or the Hunger Games. All of a sudden, my legs give way and I collapse on the forest floor. Something isn't right. He appears through the trees. A boy, ten years old, shaggy light brown hair. He opens his mouth to speak and the voice is all wrong. It's his, but too old. The voice is not a boy's, but a man's. A noble man's. _

"Valeria. Valeria!"

My eyes flutter open. I am lying in a room, a dusty, old, falling apart room, and I remember. I am not six, and Conlan is not ten. Wren is not with me. I am not in the forest. I am in the Hunger Games. And my legs...

My legs! I suddenly sit up, but the dizziness and pain in my back almost pulls me back down. My hand slowly reaches out to touch the tender bloodstained flesh, but jerks back quickly when I realize my legs feel nothing! Not pain, not the gentle touch of my fingers, not anything but numbness from my feet to my hips. Panicked now, I reach for where the needle of pain seems to be jabbing my back. I touch the tender spot and let out a yelp. My fingers come back soaked in blood and pus, and finally I understand what has happened. When the sword stabbed my back, it must have severed my spinal cord. If I live, I will be a paraplegic, though judging by the amount of blood that came from my back, me living beyond a day isn't likely.

I turn to Conlan. He sees my expression. "No! You're going to make it!"

I cough. "I know you're trying to help, but it's useless. I know the truth. All I ask is that you stay with me till the end, and then I want you to go out and win."

Conlan looks down and bites his lip. He doesn't say anything. Hours pass, and neither of us speaks. Conlan gives me the rest of the food in our packs, but it doesn't do much good. The infection looks much worse. It's noon now, but surely I don't have longer than this evening...

I try to think through my life, but all I can think of are the events since the reaping. I count the days that I've been gone, and suddenly I remember.

It's Scorpi's birthday! He's eighteen today. The start of adulthood for him. A whole new stage of life. I can't go out today. I will fight through today and through the night and leave tomorrow. I never thought I would win the Games. But my family will already have enough trauma. I don't need to scar the most important birthday of Scorpi's life. Today is NOT a good day to die. I WILL stay alive at least through today.

And I do. I fight through the day, and sleep peacefully through the night. But when I wake, I am weaker than ever. My wound looks horrendous. The infection is starting to spread up through the rest of my body. It's only a matter of time before it reaches my heart. It will take expensive Capitol medicine to cure this, something we surely don't have the sponsors for. Yes, I think, this is the day. This is a good day to die. Or at least the best I'll get.

Conlan watches over me constantly. He makes me drink lots of water, and he frequently changes the bandages and torniquets on my legs. He tells me about our situation. Apparently we're in some small building in the middle of the city. The first night I was out, the sky showed the faces of the boy from District Four and Katana. Since then, the boy from 10 and Gia are also out. That leaves Conlan and I (for now), the boy from 6, the girl from 10, the career boy from 1, and the career girl from 4. It's only day four and there's only six left? At least since it's been so action packed it will be a while before the audience gets bored and the Gamemakers do something to draw everyone in to kill each other. That means I will get to die in peace.

As the morning turns into afternoon, I know the end is near. I raise my head as far as I can without fainting, wait for the cameras to have time to pick up my face, and whisper, "I'm so sorry, Wren." I hate the thought of her looking at my cold body, not even whole, when it is returned to my family in a wooden box. I'm fading away. These are my last moments. I look up to Conlan. "Thank you for everything," I whisper.

"I'm sorry," he chokes.

"No, you did all you could."

"But I wish I could have done more."

And just as he says it we hear the clunks behind him. Conlan lets out a whoop as first one, than another silver parachute lands just outside. A small parachute holds a box, no bigger than three inches cubed, and the second, larger parachute carries a large covered basket with what appears to be steam rising from it. Conlan does not hesitate to race outside and rip open the box, and I wince as he jams the needle into my arm and presses down on the plunger. Next he yanks the cover off the basket and it's filled with good, hearty food. He makes me eat small portions of meat and bread and tells me to go to sleep. As I'm drifting off, I realize I may live yet.

...

I wake up to some confusion. Wasn't I supposed to be dead by now? But I am less dizzy. The blood in my body is beginning to be replenished. I am still very weak, but my head is less foggy and I can much more easily tell what's going on around me. I sit up, and though I am slightly lightheaded at first, I can tell my strength will be returning soon.

Conlan takes one look at my back and we know that surely infection will not be taking me anymore. Whatever he stuck in my arm yesterday has done the trick. It must have been some expensive Capitol medicine. But where in the world did we get the sponsors for that? And why did they hold back until I was at the very edge of death? And suddenly it hits me. The apology I made to Wren. I hadn't intended it to attract sponsors. I only wanted to do just that- apologize. But it did attract sponsors. It must have evoked just enough pity for people to remember who's waiting for me and pay to send those gifts. Yes. Clearly Johanna had been out ever since I'd been injured, begging people to sponsor us, but the Capitol citizens had been hesitant. Hesitant until I made that apology. A scared, tired, little girl on death's door who was clearly not in her right mind. That must be it.

Not that I still will be able to survive the rest of the Games. Even with Conlan's protection, the kill or be killed scenario is designed for people with usable legs. How can I stay alive if I can't even walk, much less run?

Conlan is sharpening his knives on a rock. "Why don't you sleep a little while I keep watch?" I ask, because he looks as if he hasn't slept in days, and more than likely he hasn't.

"No, no, you're still too hurt," he answers. "And you can't fight if they find us."

"Conlan, you can't stay awake forever. And I'll wake you up if I need help."

"I guess you're right. but wake me up after two hours, and no later."

While he's asleep, I practice using my hands to scoot around the room. It's slow and tiring, but I'm starting to get the hang of it. I polish and sharpen my axe. It's got a few minor dings, but it's still in relatively good shape. I also eat a little more of the food they sent us, trying not to overdo it. I guess the sponsor was feeling very generous, because the amount of food there was nearly equal to a Capitol meal, though not as fancy. There are two large loaves of bread, pieces of pork, a large lump of goat cheese, and four apples. Half of one of the loaves of bread is gone, and I think Conlan might have eaten some. That's good. I was worried he would want to leave all of it for me.

I scoot the food outside of the room to eat in the open air, which is a tricky maneuver, but worth it. I breathe in the warm, fresh air, and realize how much I've missed it. But how much longer will I get to experience it? I also go inside and fetch the two backpacks and my axe. I look through the packs a little, and at least now with my axe I'm not entirely vulnerable.

Suddenly I hear a noise behind me from inside the room. A sort of cracking noise I think. I waddle back in, wishing I could go faster, though I know wishing will do me no good. I look up to the ceiling to see it beginning to crumble. "Conlan!" I shout. "Conlan! Get out of here!" I know I should get out, but I can't leave him. Thankfully he jumps up in time. He races out before it comes down. I, however, am not so lucky as pieces of the roof begin to rain down on my body.


	10. Chapter 10- The Sacrifice

I cry out in pain as a large piece of roof shatters against my skull. I fall to the ground, watching the very largest piece above me begin to break away and hoping that it will all be over quickly. Instead I feel his big strong arms wrap around me and carry me out, and the last thing I remember thinking is that Conlan Ballantyn just saved my life. Again.

...

It isn't long after I wake up before I have to turn to my side to vomit. I guess I have a concussion.

"Here," Conlan says, handing me my water bottle. I take it, but as I'm rinsing my mouth out, I remember what I wanted to say.

"Conlan, you can't keep doing this!" That was harsher than I intended. "I should be dead right now! Helping me isn't worth it. Just abandon me now and go win!" I'm beginning to cry now.

"No. I won't leave you." His voice raises into the gentlest yell I've ever heard. "Please, Valeria, let me do this! Your family needs you! Your sister needs you! Who's going to look after Wren when she's an adult? Who's going to make sure she doesn't starve?"

I'm so ashamed. Why am I so ungrateful? So selfish? What am I supposed to do? "O-okay," I stutter.

I look around. We are in our old oasis from the beginning. Conlan must have carried me here while I was out. He tells me I've only missed a few hours, and not much has happened. This means that if someone doesn't die soon, the Gamemakers will do something to pull us all in together.

But someone does die. We hear the cannon. And since there isn't much on the horizon line, we even see the hovercraft appear over the city a mile away. As it picks up the body, we obviously can't tell who it is, but from the spear sticking out of it, we know the vicious girl from 4 was likely the killer. Thankfully this means she's far away from us. At least for now.

Through the remaining hours of the day, we eat, drink, and sharpen weapons. Conlan also helps me practice walking on my hands. I'm getting better, but I'm still very slow and wobbly. It's also very hot and dry out here, and we are constantly draining and refilling our water bottles. At least we have a spring near us.

Evening falls, and we crane our necks to see whose cannon we heard today. It is the face of the boy from District 1. That makes sense. With only six of us left, the two remaining Careers finally decided to turn on each other. Now who's left? But then the sky changes and we also see the boy from 6. I guess another cannon went off while I was out of it or even while I was sleeping last night. I do a quick think-through and figure out our remaining competitors. Just the girls from 4 and 10 and us.

For the first time, I process the idea that I might actually make it home. To fame. To wealth. Back to Wren's arms. But also to nightmares. To the hateful eyes of the parents of the tributes who haven't made it. To forever living in the memories of everything that's happened in here. Suddenly I'm not so sure I want that.

Another thought crosses my mind. Either I die or Conlan dies. I know that should have been obvious from the beginning. And I did know it. But that was when I didn't trust Conlan. When I was completely prepared to say goodbye. Now my mind is such a flurry of emotions. At first I had completely accepted my death. Or Conlan's. But now, with everything that's happened, I'm not so sure. What if we end up as the only two left? Will Conlan kill himself? I wouldn't be able to bear that. What if once there's no one to protect me from, he'll abandon protecting me and be my enemy?

Enemy. That word. What was it, only a few weeks ago? _"Never forget who the real enemy is." _Who is my enemy? An enemy is someone who's against me. That leaves the other tributes, the girls from Four and Ten. But Columbae couldn't have meant them. She didn't know who they were. She couldn't have known they would be here. She had to have meant someone who's been there, who's been my enemy all along.

And suddenly it hits me. The Capitol. They are the enemy. The other tributes are victims too. Victims just like me, and her, and everyone who has suffered because of them. And that is why I must win. To join Conlan in his plan to defy the Capitol. They don't want me to win because I haven't killed anyone. Because Conlan is helping me. So I will win.

But I'm torn, because then I'll have to watch Conlan die. I watched Katana die, and if the same thing happens to him, I swear I'll truly lose it. Already I can feel my sanity slipping away from me. But one thing I am sure of. No matter what happens, the Valeria that left District Seven will never be returning.

...

"Val! Wake up! Val! Hurry! We have to move!"

I pull myself up. It's barely dawn, but I can faintly see it on the horizon. A heavy cloud of sand billowing toward us from deeper in the desert. "A sandstorm?!" I remember learning about those in school. Once trapped in one, you could essentially drown in the sand. It's time, I think. The Gamemakers are drawing us all into the city to fight.

Conlan gives me my backpack and axe, then squats down to my level. "Quick! Grab on!" he shouts. I wrap my arms around his shoulders. He quickly turns and runs off toward the city.

It must be the adrenaline, because even with my weight, he only has to stop once. We make it into the heart of the city just before the storm reaches us. Unfortunately, our fellow tributes don't arrive long after us. Conlan sets me down inside the Cornucopia to hide just as the two girls burst into our clearing on opposite sides of him. But no sooner does the first girl appear than Conlan's thrown knife pierces her chest.

She's down, but immediately he realizes nothing is over. As the girl's cannon fires, Conlan sends another knife in the direction of the other girl. But this one's prepared, and ducks out of the way. I see that it's the girl from 4. Of course. The one I'd feared from the beginning, and now I know for the right reasons. I guess she'll be our final enemy- no, opponent, because she's a victim too.

Conlan's second knife hits her right hand. It only nicks the edge of it, but it's enough to make her drop her sword. Taking advantage of the few moments before she can pick it up again, he runs up and slams his enormous body into hers, knocking her to the ground. But she's strong too, and they begin to wrestle on the rubble-filled ground.

First she's on top, then he is, and over and over again. No one can gain the advantage. Finally, they near the girl's sword. As they both reach for it, she manages to free herself from Conlan's grasp and take it. But instead of lunging for him, she bolts toward the Cornucopia, to me.

I'm frozen. I know I need to move it, but my hands refuse to take me anywhere. She nears me. She raises her sword, but at that moment he is there, stabbing her in the heart and yet taking the blade for me.


	11. Chapter 11- The Bracelet

"NO!"

In a moment I am at his side. The sword didn't hit his heart, but just looking at the wound, I know he can't be saved. It's only a matter of minutes before he's gone. The cannon fires for the girl.

"Conlan!" I can feel the tears begin to run down my nose. The large saltwater drops splash against my knees which can't feel a thing.

He slowly lifts his arm and places his hand on my cheek. "Don't cry, Valeria," he whispers. "We did it. You won."

But I'm not happy. I don't want to win anymore. I want Conlan to win. I hate the Hunger Games. I hate the Capitol.

There's so much I want to say. That I'm sorry. That I'm grateful. That it was instead he that deserved to win. But my lips refuse to move.

He reaches out and clutches my hand. He pulls it down toward his mouth and kisses it. I suddenly remember. This was the boy I watched through the butcher's window. The boy I admired so much. How could I have imagined that less than two short weeks later I would be helplessly watching him die while I sat by in agony?

His eyes flutter shut. He is still breathing, but barely. Now I lean down and kiss his forehead. The cannon fires.

He has been so much more than a crush to me the past few days. In fact, I don't know what exactly I think of him now. How could I love him? He was a friend. No. He was more than that. He was my selfless protector. My savior. And now he's gone.

The trumpets blare and the announcer comes on to say something, but I'm not listening. I'm hunched in a ball on the ground now, clutching my numb legs. I bury by head in my knees and just sob. But as I lift my head, I realize I'm not sad anymore. Instead, I'm angry. Really angry. I know I'm supposed to distance myself from the bodies now, so I move my hands as fast as I can away from the girl, from Conlan's dead body. I have to escape from this. I can't take it anymore.

It doesn't help that I have to stop every few yards to rest my hands. Every time I look at my legs is a reminder of how he saved me. Why didn't he just leave me there to die!? I have to get away from this place.

When I get as far as I think I need to be, I lift my head to the sky and just scream. As loud as I can, until I can't scream anymore. It feels good. The hovercraft appears above me, and a ladder falls down. Good. I get to leave this place and never come back. I will be a crazy person, and that satisfies me.

Once I place my hands on the ladder, some sort of electric current freezes me to it and the ladder begins to pull me. As I'm riding up to the hovercraft, I realize both of my hands are bleeding severely and may have been for some time. Finally, the metal doors seal shut below me, and as the ladder releases me I slump to the floor. Capitol doctors dressed in white surround me, and I begin to scream again because I don't want them around me. One picks me up, and another holds me still to keep me from thrashing. They're taking me to some sort of medical room, and as they set me down on a silver table, a needle jabs my arm and I fall unconscious.

...

When I wake, the first thing I feel is fear. Of what exactly I am not sure, but I don't like it. My lucidity has not returned to me, and weirdly I enjoy the fogginess of mind. I am lying in a bed, in a white room that appears to contain only the bed. My hair, which was a dirty, tangled mass when I exited the arena has been washed out and brushed and now falls in a soft wavy curtain over my shoulders. My skin has been scrubbed down and cleaned and shows no sign of wounds or scars. It's like everything that happened in there was just a dream. But I know what the real proof will be.

I tentatively lift the covers on my bed and gently touch my thigh. No, it was all real. In fact, I have to quickly set the sheets back down because the memories are coming on so fast and strong at the sight. I guess even the Capitol doctors could not repair the damage done to my spine.

I piece of the wall opens, and a girl with sleek black hair, an Avox I think, enters carrying a tray. I want to ask her to stay, because her presence comforts me, but she sets the tray down on my lap and exits, then the wall slides back into place. I am slightly disappointed at the meal, which I hoped would be an extravagant Capitol meal, but instead is just some chicken broth and bread. But I finish it, and slide almost immediately back into deep sleep.

...

Waking again, this time I feel anticipation. When I look around, I realize why. The wall-door is open, clothes have been left out for me, and best of all, sitting next to my bed in wait for me is a wheelchair. Today I will exit this prison and go to meet my team.

But I cringe when I look at the outfit. A black tank top and blue shorts- the outfit I wore in the arena. It's a new one though, because the actual outfit I wore was torn and blood-stained. But I pull myself up and change into the outfit.

Then I take a deep breath and ease myself into the chair. I like it. It's simple, not electric, not designed for fashion. Doesn't seem made for Capitol people. I guess Johanna must have ordered it for me. The handles on the wheels also seem extended a bit, likely because I'm so small, so I don't have to stretch my arms way out. I take hold of them and slowly begin to move myself forward.

I turn just the right wheel in hopes of turning myself to the left, and it works. I roll out the doorway and begin to wheel myself down the empty hallway. Where is everyone? Suddenly I spot a flash of bright purple that evokes eagerness in me.

"Otillie!" I shout, and I know I sound like a little girl, but I don't care.

Her voice answers me back from the end of the hall. "We're over here, Vallie!"

I'm pushing this chair forward as fast as my hands will let me. I long to see a familiar face, any face I recognize, so much that I don't really care if it's President Snow's face. And my wish is satisfied, because waiting for me at the end of the hall is not only Otillie, but Johanna and Indigo as well.

As I near them, Otillie is shouting praises and congratulations, but that means nothing to me. Of course she would be doing that. What really surprises me is Johanna. She smiles and tells me, "Good job," and I think she really means it.

A pang of guilt surges through me. I know that it was through no fault of my own that I won. I hardly did anything. It was all Conlan...

"I'm proud of you, too, Val," Indigo is saying, "Now come with me. I need to get you ready for tonight." He takes the back handles of my wheelchair and directs me back down the hallway toward an elevator. It is only then that I realize that there have been cameras here this whole time, taping my reunion. No! No cameras! But I know that there will be cameras following me off and on for the rest of my life. I should get used to it. But I don't want to. I don't want the eyes of the world in my private life. And that's when I lose it.

"No! Get them out of here! Get those cameras away from me!" I feel bad screaming in front of Indigo, but I just can't stand it.

He keeps his calm though, and wheels the screaming Valeria into the elevator. As the doors close, I stop screaming to catch my breath and look down. I suddenly notice something on my wrist that must have been there ever since I woke up. It's a bracelet. A medical bracelet, that reads _MENTALLY DISORIENTED_. Well I should say so. I chuckle.

...

Sitting in front of the mirror, I conclude the person showing in it is not me. This girl is older, a woman really, and unlike me she looks capable of killing. I wear a tight black dress that is dotted with, though not covered in, dark green sparkles. From the neck to the waist, my dress is a simple pattern, a v-neck with no puffed sleeves or fancy patterns. From my hips to the end of my wheelchair is layer after layer of sheer black fabric, and on my feet rest black shoes with four-inch heels, though that should really have no point.

And the dress is not the end. My hair, which I expected to be styled, has been flat-ironed, so instead of my usual slightly wavy hair, it falls like silk very straightly over my shoulders. What must be three pounds of makeup coats my face. It sharpens out my round face. Black eyeliner and dark green eye shadow bring out my eyes in a dark and menacing way. My fingernails are coated with black nail polish. Even being in the wheelchair adds to this look because it hides my true stature, so you might think I am taller.

I take a second to take in the whole look. This is what I will wear to the crowning. I seem to be at least three years older. Elegant. Sophisticated. And deadly. But why? Then I remember. I wasn't supposed to win. I didn't kill anyone, so I shouldn't be the victor. The fact that I am is the result of an act against the Capitol. And that's dangerous.

So this is how and why Indigo has calculated this look. To protect me. When I am out there, I cannot appear innocent or sweet. I must seem like I could've killed someone, even if people remember that I didn't. And if I cannot pull this off, I and my family could be in serious danger.


	12. Chapter 12- The Crown

Blinding lights. Roaring crowd. I am rising from beneath the stage on a metal plate which had to be rebuilt this year so it would fit my wheelchair. Once I reach the top, Caesar has to lift me up and place me in the victor's chair. I dislike being so helpless.

It is time to watch the highlights of the Games. A three-hour compilation following the victor's journey from the reaping till now. As the seal Panem appears, I realize how much I dread watching this. I do not want to relive it all. I don't want to watch the people die who might have lived if I hadn't. But it's required, so I just hold my face in a scowl while the tape plays.

I compose myself for the first part of the video, biting my lip as I watch Wren cling to me, Conlan announce his protection for me, and Conlan kill the girl from 1 to protect me at the beginning. But as I see Katana killed and watch me run to her side, I can't take it anymore.

"Turn it off!" I scream. "Don't make me watch any more!" This is dangerous. Even I want to stop myself, but I can't, which only confirms that I truly have lost it. Maybe that will make President Snow more lenient when he punishes my family.

Peacekeepers surround me, and the sight of their weapons is enough to make me stop. I grit my teeth and do the best I can to completely harden myself through the rest of the video. But it's hard, because I have to watch Conlan do everything so that I could win. Now I see even more than what I saw in the arena. When I became paralyzed, he did everything to keep me alive and even killed when I was passed out. And all the other times he saved my life, which are too numerous to count.

As the video goes on, I feel more and more shame. I did not deserve to win. I yelled at Conlan, rejected him, gave him the cold shoulder. I was untrusting, ungrateful, and by all definitions, unworthy. And yet he still did it, with no thought of himself or those he cared about, but instead of me, and those I cared about. I owe everything to Conlan. And now I have no way to repay him. I will forever be in the debt of Conlan Ballantyn.

When it is done, President Snow himself steps on to the stage with the golden victor's crown. Normally, the victor would stand to receive it, but instead the President bends down to my level and places it on my head. Both of us look up, and his face shows he is unforgiving. His wispy white hair. His eyes like those of a snake. His breath which reeks of two distinct smells. Blood and roses.

I am placed back in my wheelchair and we exit the stage. Tomorrow will be my final interview. After that I will board a train for home. Home. What will happen when I am back there? Will things ever be back as they once were? I'm certain they won't. Will my mind ever heal? Now that I cannot tell. My only hope is that I can try to forget everything. Well, not everything. There is one thing I must always remember. The one who sacrificed everything for me. Conlan Ballantyn. My hero.

…

**Epilogue?**

I was right. Nothing was the same. Wren and I shared the same bond we had before, but she never understood the agony I was going through, the nightmares I had to fight every night, the memories I had to live through every day. No one understood. And I wanted someone who did.

We were rich, living in a house in the Victor's Village. My family never wanted for anything again. Nothing except for the old me to return.

One day, just a few short weeks after I returned, we found Scorpi lying dead. A carefully choreographed "accident" by Snow. Probably meant to punish me for my rebellion. But after that, I lost all sanity I ever had left. Whole weeks of constant screaming and breaking dishes. Other weeks where I was completely gone, staring ahead into blank space, unmoving, unblinking.

The Victory Tour came and went. I became a mentor for the District Seven tributes, which was a nightmare in itself. Then on my third year as mentor a miracle happened. I met a new victor from District Four. He was also mentally scarred, and over time we fell in love. Not immediately, but we grew on each other, and two years later we married. Our wedding was a big deal in the Capitol, and it was approved that I could move to District Four to live with him. Circumstance led us to adopt an abandoned eleven-year-old girl only a few months after we were married.

My husband and I had calming effects on each other, and gradually, with him at my side, my sanity returned to me. Wren was thrilled to have me back, and our daughter finally got to see what her adopted parents were originally. I still had my moments, especially every year when I would have to return to District Seven and then to the Capitol to mentor the next tributes, but now I had him with me. To comfort me through the nightmares that would never go away.

Of course I never forgot Conlan. Every time I pushed the wheels on my chair forward, I was reminded of him. I knew I had worn out all my chances of doing something more against that wretched Capitol, but I dreamed that one day, someone would rise up and follow in his footsteps. Little did I know that just ten years after Conlan died, that wish would be fulfilled in the hands of a very unlikely person named Katniss Everdeen.

The End? No. The Beginning.

* * *

**So, I actually wrote this story a while ago, and then I started a sequel called My Heart. But, unfortunately, life happened and I got to about chapter 3 of it and haven't written much since. So, should I post what I have of it now, or wait until I get more of it done or at least get back into a regular writing pattern? Reviews on my story are strongly encouraged. I want to know what you think, even if its bad! And keep checking to see if I post My Heart or more to my Divergent story, It's My Choice. Happy reading!**


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